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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27595159">Austin-tatious</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletownblues/pseuds/littletownblues'>littletownblues</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Toxic Masculinity, and challenging it, gotta sort their shit out, kind of, no romance just yet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:07:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,594</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27595159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletownblues/pseuds/littletownblues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Director's falling apart as he keeps everything else together. There's only so much X6 can do, and that's okay with both of them- but that's not going to stop him helping where he can.</p><p>In which neither see eye to eye, or even shoulder to knee, but they're doing their best.</p><p>EDIT: A fixed a paragraph that had apparently decided that sentence order was a thing of the past.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Male Sole Survivor &amp; X6-88, Male Sole Survivor/X6-88</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Austin-tatious</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warning for descriptions-ish of mutilation and self harm. Stay safe.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sir, you need to have a shower. Sitting this long in these… conditions can only be detrimental to your health. Which is already declining- rapidly, I have observed.” Almost transparent, white eyes looked up at the Courser, eyebrows raised. “Careful there 88, you almost sound like you care. Wouldn’t want anyone catching onto that.” It was half mocking, half serious. He knew, of course, the line he was about to be fed- “I care about the future of the institute-” It was all white noise. </p><p>“88, stand down. I’m fine. I’m a big strong man, human or not. I’m physically fit and currently uninjured.” The last bit was a lie- he was bleeding, profusely, from his thighs. But X6-88 couldn’t see that, and he didn’t need to know. A small shadow of doubt crossed the courser’s features, but it soon disappeared. Either because he was a little more on edge because of the Director’s previous comments or because he genuinely believed him, the Director couldn’t tell. </p><p>“Big strong man or not sir, you are showing signs of mental health issues, and an astounding lack of self care-” Stopping mid-sentence, the courser had clearly been distracted by something, but the director couldn’t see past those black lenses. “Your shower is running, sir.” Was it? When had he done that? If X6 did notice his confusion, he didn’t say anything. “May I suggest using it? Otherwise, I may have to go down to the-” X6-88 cut himself off again as a small chuckle left the Director- had he said something amusing? He rose on very noticeably shaky legs, mostly obscured by the blanket cocoon-skirt he had wrapped around his lower half. “I’m going, 88. No need to blackmail me.”  </p><p>An unspoken worry coursed through X6- the director always set him on edge, without fail. He looked up to the man, but something about his cold, volatile gaze set him firmly on edge in not even a way a raider had ever. He had seen the man stalk random settlers to the edge of their dwellings, kill them silently- with no word of explanation- and then lie to the unfortunate soul that had walked in, fists still bloody, and get away with it.</p><p>He would have made an excellent Courser. </p><p>But right now, he was fumbling like a new-born radstag in spring- it was uncharacteristically graceless, the few decorations around the place (ones that were already there before the director, the courser noted) being either knocked completely off or haphazardly balancing just between a cruel fate and where it had been peacefully resting. </p><p>He supposed, all things considered, he should intervene- but what if what if that was the wrong thing to do? The man was kind enough to hear him out in his short moments of softness, and even kinder in never bringing them up after the fact, but this seemed. It felt… well, personal. And he never did personal- not with X6, not with anyone. Hell, the man called him ‘88’. People usually went for X6 or even just X, but 88? It felt… well, he supposed it was the equivalent of calling someone by their last name. 

</p>
<p>“Sir. Would you- let me help.” It felt miles more intimate than the quick stimpack traded between the two on the battlefield, even when he had watched the Director run straight through two brutes just to get to him. It made sense; a broken Courser was of no use to him. But the momentary glimpse of worry? It stuck with him. Even if X6 was just making it up to fulfil some sick fantasy of being more, of being worth something, he wanted to repay the Director in kind.</p><p>“Help? You don’t think I can manage this, 88? You’d think you’d believe in me enough to believe I’m able to take a shower.” Watching as he continued to limp forward, X6 took a small step of faith. “With all due to respect, you’ve misunderstood what I’m saying. I want to help you, sir. You were clearly either lying or misinformed about your physical state-” X6 knew it was the former, but hoped it was the latter- “and I can at least check them over for you. You may be competent, but I will most likely have better injury than you.” Stopping in the doorframe of his bathroom, the man considered it. </p><p>“You’re not wrong.” He waddled in, and X6 could clearly hear the sound of the man undressing, his half-suit hitting the ground with a loud thud that X6 suspected was more the contents of his suit than the suit itself. “Are you coming in, or have you changed your mind?” </p><p>“I was unaware you had agreed to my offer.” Just telling him he wasn’t wrong didn’t seem much like consent- emotions were fickle, especially in humans. “You weren’t wrong.”<br/>
X6 almost froze at the man in front of him- his underwear was still on, a soft white material now drenched in blood. His thighs were almost neatly cut up into small grids, so precise X6 was almost impressed. “Have you used these techniques, too?” The man raised an eyebrow at the definitely staring X6- he still couldn’t see his eyes, but he could just about guess where he was looking. </p><p>Cocking an eyebrow, he cast his mind back to a conversation they had months ago- Pickman’s gallery. He hadn’t meant- this. Mutilation. Did the Director think he was so low as to make that kind of monstrosity? Was that how he viewed X6?</p><p>“No, sir. I can’t say I approve of you using them, either.” His voice dropped slightly, wavering as he dropped to his knees to properly inspect the wound. “Do you have a first aid kit, sir?”<br/>
“Get off your knees.”<br/>
“Do you have a first aid kit-”<br/>
“88. Get off your knees.”</p><p>Silence drifted between them. </p><p>“Please hand me your first aid kit, sir. You require medical attention.” He glanced up, sunglasses still firmly in place and mouth still a firm line. The Director was bathed in light, face almost obscured by his artificial halo, long hair rolling down his body. Beautiful, was the first word that came to mind. Fragile was the next. </p><p>A loud clunk vibrated around the room, a metal box falling to the floor next to X6. “There, 88. Just- make this quick. We both know you have more important things to be doing.”<br/>
The wipes were first, X6 working diligently as he wiped away the blood he could, listening to every tiny hitch of breath the Director let out. A reminder he was there, human, and therefore breakable. “This will need stitches, sir. I believe it would be best if you sat.”<br/>
The Director was strict in his use of Stimpacks- usually, only if a limb was broken or his vision was impaired. Even then, if he didn’t need to run or could just scrape by with one broken, he would. It was something X6 couldn’t fully understand- he wasn’t a courser, he had no extra protection. He had enough Stimpacks- 46 last time he checked. And while he didn’t usually sell much, he still had plenty he could to purchase more. Or even start pressing for more payment- that was something X6 found equally confusing. </p><p>The stitches were small and perfect, the Director having decided to sit on the edge of the nearby bathtub. Another bout of silence thrummed between them, both equally concentrated on each other. </p><p> “Thank you.” It was soft, the softest X6 had ever heard him, and it froze him to the core. The voice was almost broken, like the director was about to cry, and he never cried. He hadn’t when he went back to see his wife, he hadn’t when he buried her or so many others in the ground. A part of him wondered if the other had the capability. But here he was, softly shaking, and X6 didn’t dare look up. </p><p>His hand rose, gently running circles around the wounds. It was soothing, he hoped, like the way the director sometimes traced his bare ring finger. Sunglasses laid to rest on the floor, his head gently came to rest on the opposite thigh, the Director’s hand gently coming to rest on top of X6- cautious and experimental, like X6 was some stray dog. </p><p>The air stilled, the moment freezing, minutes ticking away. </p><p>“...88?”<br/>
A small sound of vague recognition left the voice of the other.<br/>
“I’m cold.”</p><p>The urge to come back with some quip or deadpan line was strong, but he resisted it nonetheless. Ruining a moment like this could be disastrous. He didn’t want it to end. “Do you have any other clothes, sir?” </p><p>A thoughtful hum left him, thinking much too hard about a simple question. “Not any professional clothing, unfortunately. Decent looking clean suits my size aren’t easy to come by.” The idea the Director had anything other than formal attire was somewhat surprising- he wore power armour often, usually with a well-fitting suit underneath. The relief on his face when he found out the institute had more ‘modern’ cleaning facilities for clothes was palpable to say the least. </p><p>“Armour is not out of place here, sir. I doubt you’ll look as bad as the common surface dweller.” With his unscarred face and charisma? X6 could pick him out of a packed diamond city crowd any day. “Armour? No. Jeans, 88.” And a harness, but he had no need to mention that particular item.<br/>
Considering it for a brief second, he half-heartedly shuffled, careful to leave his head where it was. Stripping himself of his coat, he passed the item up to the director, glancing up at him with what could only be called hopeful eyes.<br/>
The tiniest smile traced the Director’s lips as he took the coat, hand leaving X6’s head to pull it on. Watching as he shuffled around to pull it on, X6’s eyes widened slightly. It was large on him, far too long and hilariously baggy. It almost made the Director look… cute. A bubble of emotion caught his throat, a rumbling coursing through him as he heard laughter pass his lips. He planted his face into the Director’s thigh, muffling himself against what was now leather covered skin. His hands gently came to grip at his sides, trying his best to stop himself from laughing- at the director, no less- but he couldn’t. It was fucking hilarious. A man with as much presence as the director made to look so small, like some child playing dress up. When had he even become so skinny? The Courser could have sworn he always looked broader than this.</p><p>The warmth of the Director’s hand on his skin surprised him, the man gently tipping his chin up. The electricity of the Director’s eyes looking straight into his with no window- no protection- between the two would have terrified him in any other situation. And it still did slightly. But it was overruled by a sense of unrest as the Director searched what he could’ve sworn was his soul, and the man looked desperate. </p><p>“Are you laughing at me, 88?” He wanted to say no. He wanted to book it, run the hell out of there and never look back, but he couldn’t because something was anchoring his knees to the floor, his eyes to the Director’s as he kneeled at his feet. “Yes, sir.” It came out so much more vulnerable than X6 had ever heard himself speak, and he cursed himself for his own weakness. </p><p>“88 do you-” The Director stopped mid-sentence, something X6 hadn’t seen before crossing the Director’s features. No- no he had seen it, just not on the Director. Uncertainty. “Is that what I am? A joke?”</p><p>X6 had been asked questions like that before- had asked others questions like that. Interrogations, torture, right before being decommissioned. The very thoughts made his eyes steel over and lips tighten. But this wasn’t- there was a difference. Malevolence? Honesty?</p><p>Honesty. </p><p>The Director was honestly asking him if he thought that The Director of the institute, the man he had seen make a jetpack out of tin cans, was a joke? </p><p>“You’re joking right, sir?” </p><p>Silence fell between them for the third time that evening. </p><p>“Well shit.” Leaning back against the bathroom wall- it was clean, X6 had surveyed the room the moment he had walked in- he looked up at the other man. It was the most vulnerable either of them had either been. X6 was coatless, sunglasses resting on the floor next to him and the Director- well, X6 rarely saw him out of his power armour, let alone this naked. “I told you I look up to you sir. And I believe I clarified I wasn’t brown-nosing for a promotion.”<br/>
“You did.”<br/>
“Was my behaviour that of someone who found you to be inadequate? Or even humorous, for that matter.”<br/>
“No, it wasn’t, 88.”<br/>
“Then why?”<br/>
The courser reached out for his glasses, only to be quickly met with the director almost falling onto him trying to stop him. His hand was gentle, barely a suggestion, but his eyes were begging, watering up.<br/>
“I don’t know 88. I don’t- what’s wrong with me? I- this- I hate it here. So much. I thought I could have my family back, I betrayed my best friends at a chance of just being with my son. And he’s dead. This is my son’s legacy, and I loved him- god I loved him so much. Do you think he knew?” </p><p>“I… I don’t know sir. But. You’re- he should have been proud to call you his Father. You’re an amazing man, despite your… faults. Admirable.”</p><p>A tear traced the Director’s face, X6’s eyes watching it slowly trail down, pooling on the leather of his jacket. “Admirable? I should’ve been blasted away along with the damned commonwealth. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t pop a bullet in my brain. Burn myself a  crisp. Sit myself in that chair you’re all so fond of, take a knife to my arm and just carve and let it bleed, let a super mutant tear off my limbs and disembowel me, swallow me whole like a fucking- popsicle.”</p><p>“A- a popsicle, sir?” The tiniest hint of a smile crept onto him.<br/>
“Is my choice of vocabulary not up to scratch, 88?”<br/>
“No, it’s just a rather… fitting piece of imagery, considering your origins.”<br/>
“What, you gonna start calling me Popsicle now? Y’know, Piper used to call me blue. Not sure whether it was because of the vault suit or the frostbite. I must have looked like an icicle.”<br/>
It was, by all accounts, unfunny (X6 had heard much better from even fellow coursers) but something about the dry delivery and the sheer seriousness of the statement caused a small  high-pitched giggle to fall out the courser’s mouth. “That tickled you, huh? Well. You look good laughing. Should try it more often.”<br/>
“That depends on whether you can make me sir. This is not a situation I expect to be in again anytime soon.” Raising an eyebrow, the courser stood up, dusting himself off. </p><p>“I don’t know, that’s twice this evening. Might have to go down to SRB.”</p><p>X6-88 froze. </p><p>“I’m joking, 88. I would never do that to you. Hell, I’m trying my best to get the bloody thing decommissioned. But those cunts aren’t going to pull their head out their arses any time soon, I’ll tell you that much.”</p><p>“Cunts, sir?”</p><p>“What, you gonna laugh at me again?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope yall enjoyed. Please drop kudos or a comment, or heck, even both if you can! It is always incredibly appreciated. I don't expect many people to read this, so it's all cool if this isn't your cup of tea.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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